


He's the Definition of Insanity

by RubyLipsStarryEyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Neville Longbottom, Auror Partners, Auror Ron Weasley, Aurors, BAMF Ron Weasley, Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Harry Potter, Gay Ron Weasley, M/M, Pining Draco Malfoy, Same-Sex Marriage, Song: Break My Heart Again (Finneas), Songfic, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyLipsStarryEyes/pseuds/RubyLipsStarryEyes
Summary: Soulmate-AU- Soulmate's name appears on your 21st birthday... But what happens when two names appear?WIP- tags will be updated
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Kingsley Shacklebolt/Hestia Jones, Millicent Bulstrode/Charlie Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Severus Snape/Percy Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Susan Bones/Ernie Macmillan
Comments: 49
Kudos: 82





	1. Won't You Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey TheUltimateUndesirable and Mariana_Monteverde....
> 
> You just got out-Slytherined by a Ravenclaw. We can play the long game too. 😈🐍🦅
> 
> Suck it. 😘

Harry swore again. 

There were definitely  _ two  _ names tattooed across his skin. One had been rather expected after his name appearing across Ron’s chest back in March. And there, in bold letters across his heart, was Ronald. But across his right lower stomach, just above where his trousers sat, was a second name. 

At first he’d thought it was a joke, Ron messing with him maybe. But a shower and every variation of “finite” hadn’t touched it. The curling script revealed a name that made an awful lot of sense given their sixth year, but he couldn’t fathom how he got Ron AND Draco’s names engraved on his skin. 

And Draco’s birthday had been nearly two months ago. Surely if his name had appeared, he would have said something? It wasn’t as if they didn’t see each other every bloody day. He began running through the list of people who'd gotten their soulmate’s name. Ron was obvious. Hermione and Theo, Seamus and Dean... Blaise had Ginny’s name appear, but was still trying to win her over. Even Neville had  _ Pansy  _ appear in vine- covered script across his back the day before. Charlie’s  _ Millicent  _ finally made sense when their paths had crossed after her birthday and he’d caught sight of  _ Charles  _ in block letters down her thigh. But Draco hadn’t said a word after his birthday. Nobody had even mentioned it. 

Checking his watch, he groaned, and pulled his shirt over his head. Twenty first birthday or not, he had to be to work in half an hour, and Robards wouldn’t take “existential soulmate crisis” as a legitimate excuse for being late. He kissed a still-sleeping Ron, who’d gotten home late the previous night after a particularly difficult case and been given leave to come in later, and grabbed a piece of toast on his way out the floo. 

He slipped into the auror offices, and made his way to his desk. Glancing around the bullpen, he was unsurprised to find it mostly empty. Some of the night shift was finishing up some paperwork, but most of the day crew hadn’t made it in yet. Two desks down, he stopped and wrote out a note on a square of pale blue parchment. 

_ We need to talk.  _

_ -Harry _

Folding it in half, he left it in the center of the desk where it couldn’t be missed, and continued to his own desk. His partner, Hestia Jones, wasn’t in yet, but she’d almost undoubtedly sidle in with Kingsley around ten minutes to nine before kissing him goodbye and greeting Harry with some form of silly face from across the room. He’d ended up with too many sinus-fulls of tea before he learned to leave it on his desk until she was firmly in her seat with her own cup.    
  
Draco would undoubtedly show up at nine on the dot, a cup of strong coffee in one hand, the Prophet folded neatly under his arm. Harry didn’t know anyone as staunchly neat and organized as Draco save maybe Percy, though Percy was much easier to ruffle than Draco was. Neville was a bit more unpredictable, though he usually came in about the same time as Harry and Ron. Or he would, if Harry wasn’t early like today, full of anxious energy. 

Maybe he’d drop by Hermione’s office and ask if she knew anyone with two names… But if he asked, she’d undoubtedly demand to know who else had showed up on his skin, and he’d have to tell her. If he told Hermione, she’d immediately tell him that she’d need to do some research, and that wouldn’t do his anxiety any good. 

He was still weighing his options as other aurors began to filter in, but he kept his head down, finishing a report from the previous day. Hestia came in toting a massive cake with what Harry was pretty sure were candles from Fred and George, meaning they’d burn for the next week, and Neville had come in with a fresh plant for his desk, assuring him that he wouldn’t manage to kill this one off like he had the last two. He’d laughed and thanked them, all the while keeping one eye on the door. 

Nine o’clock came and went, and Draco never appeared. He waited until after ten before approaching his partner, a witch in her late 30s named Silvia Pence. “Hey, Silvia! Is Draco out today? I needed to talk to him about some of his notes on the Melson case.”    
  
She looked around, eyes softening as they settled on him. “No, he’s out for a while.”    
  
Harry felt a spike of panic. “Is he okay?”    
  
Silvia shrugged. “I assume so. He requested it off back the first part of June.” The first part of June. Probably right around his birthday… When his soulmate’s name would have appeared on his skin. When  _ Harry’s  _ name would have appeared on his skin. A sick feeling settled in his gut, and it must’ve showed on his face, because Silvia’s eyes narrowed. “You alright, Potter? You look a bit peaky.”    
  
He shook his head, plastering on a fake smile. “Great. Just worried about the case. But it’s fine, I’ll work it out.” She nodded, looking unconvinced. He returned to his desk, the case file in question still in hand. He flipped it open, staring at it unseeingly while thoughts raced around his head. He was so preoccupied he didn’t even notice when Ron and his partner Bernie Savage showed up, until Ron squeezed his shoulder and leaned down to kiss his cheek. 

“Morning,” he said cheerfully, and Harry gave him a halfhearted smile. “Happy Birthday,” he told him, squeezing his shoulder again. “You alright?” Ron’s blue eyes searched his face, and he immediately knew he couldn’t hide it from him. It would all come out tonight, and Harry forced down the bile that rose in his throat.    
  
“We need to talk.” It came out in a whisper, and the concern in Ron’s face grew.    
  
“Alright. I have a debrief in twenty. Can it wait til after?” Harry nodded miserably. 

“Yeah, it can wait.” 

“Alright.” Ron squeezed his arm again, and winked as he swiped his finger through the frosting of the cake on Hestia’s desk, skipping out of reach of her backhand. Harry chuckled, and the dread abated a bit. He still loved Ron. Ron’s name was still the one inked across his heart… That had to mean something. 

As it turned out, Harry and Hestia were dispatched to a call before Ron and Bernie’s debrief was over, so it was nearly three before he saw his best friend and lover again. While in the field, Harry had managed to get covered in some kind of stink-sap like substance, and he was still trying to get the scent out of his nose after a shower in the locker Ron appeared in the doorway behind him as he wiped the mirror free of steam. 

Forgetting all about the stresses of the morning, Harry grinned at him in the mirror.    
  
“Hey,” Ron grinned, moving closer. “Is that what I think it is?” He reached around and traced his own name on Harry’s chest with one finger. Planting a kiss on Harry’s neck, he wrapped his arms tightly around him. Harry met his eyes in the mirror, and his heart plummeted. He had to tell him what was hidden under the towel wrapped tightly around his waist. 

“Ron…”    
  
“Hmm?” Smiling blue eyes met green in the mirror, but before Harry could get the words out, someone pounded on the door.    
  
“Goldie! Get your ass dressed and out here, I’m not missing your party because you didn’t finish your damn paperwork!” Harry groaned. 

“Coming!” He called back, and Ron chuckled low in his ear.    
  
“You will be later, that's for sure,” he muttered, and Harry’s cock twitched under his towel. Harry gave him a shove towards the door, and tried not to laugh. Ron gave him another cheeky wink as he left the locker room. “Keep your pants on,” Harry heard him tell Hestia, and he rushed to dress, hiding the tattoo firmly under his clothes once more. 

After the party. Harry would tell him after the party. 


	2. Mind Has Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Neville's Birthday party

Harry was relatively certain he’d never finished his reports in such a timely and efficient manner. It was nothing short of a miracle, considering his head was spinning with “what if’s” and “what do I do’s.” 

He glanced at Draco’s desk every few minutes, as if he’d summon him just by thinking hard enough about him often enough. But he could also hear Ron joking with Bernie behind him, and his stomach twisted a little bit every time he thought about telling him about the tattoo across his hip. 

It would crush him. 

But against all odds, a miracle occurred and his paperwork was done at five, and Hestia lead the way out, while Ron threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders, joking with Neville. The group seemed to grow steadily larger as they made their way to the atrium, and one by one stepped through the floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry hung back, arm looped around Ron’s waist. 

“I love you, you know that, right?” He looked up, and Ron gave him an easy grin as Neville disappeared in the flash of green flame. 

“´Course I do.” He tightened his arm momentarily, then a crease appeared between his eyebrows. “You alright? You seem nervous.” 

“I just—“ 

“Oi, keep them queue moving!” A wizard from the Magical Gaming Commission going off his robes looked irritated, and Ron flared at him. 

“Bloody hell you’d think we’d been standing around for a hour,” he grumbled, but tossed in a handful of powder and disappeared. Harry counted to three and followed, stepping out of the floo to a shout of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY,” that left his ears ringing. Hermione bounded forward, giving him a tight hug and draping a sash around his neck. It looked like Neville had already been given the same treatment, and was grinning sheepishly at Pansy, who was looking decidedly confused at his sudden shyness. 

“Her birthdays not til the end of August,” Theo whisped to the trio, handing Hermione a drink. Looks of understanding dawned on them all, and Ron snickered. “Bets we can get him drunk enough to take his shirt off? There’s no missing that one.” 

Neville had caused quite the commotion in the locker rooms the day before, stripping off his shirt after a round of sparring and baring his soulmate to the world. Harry hadn’t seen a soulmate tattoo that large, but it was striking. Green vines with bright purple blooms entwined over the script that spelled out Pansy’s name, and Harry supposed it fit them both. His and Ron’s matched, but precious few did. Hermione’s wrapped her ankle like a piece of jewelry, while Theo’s was spelled out in a typewriter font across the inside of his left bicep.  Seamus’s appeared as a splash of color across most of his upper arm, while Dean’s was reportedly along the inside of his thigh, though Harry hadn’t seen it, and didn’t particularly want to. He’d seen enough of the bloke after sharing a dorm for 6 years. 

Now that he thought about it, none of the couples he knew actually had matching tattoos like his and Ron's. Ernie and Susan's were probably the closest, though his was across the back of his shoulder and hers was inscribed over her ribs. 

A shout from the bar drew Harry’s attention, and he did his best to push the soulmate tattoos from his mind. He accepted a beer from someone— Hestia, maybe?— and began making his way slowly through the crowd with Ron at his side. They found a table near the back with Hermione and Theo, and sat back with their drinks, chatting about Hermione’s work at the ministry and Theo’s law school classes. 

Harry had finally started to relax an hour in, after a drink and the steady, calming weight of Ron’s arm settled around his shoulders. At least, until Theo looked around for the third time and Hermione finally asked who he was looking for.    
  
“Draco. I thought he said he was coming.” His eyes continued to sweep over the packed room, and Harry stiffened. 

“He wasn’t at work,” Ron noted, but didn’t appear to notice Harry’s reaction. “Probably wasn’t feeling up to it or just changed his mind.” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” Theo’s eyes lingered just a little too long on Harry’s face, and Harry's stomach sank. Theo was Draco’s best friend. If anyone knew who’s name was inked on Draco’s alabaster skin, it was him. 

“Another round?” Harry was desperate to get away from his probing eyes, and practically launched himself from his chair. By doing so, he somehow managed to get cornered by Pansy, who shoved shots of something pink and fruity-smelling into his and Neville’s hands. 

“Shots for the birthday boys!” Her signature Slytherin smirk was painted deep cherry red, and Neville could barely tear his eyes away long enough to take the shot. At Harry’s sharp jab to his ribs with his elbow, they clinked their glasses together and tossed them back. Neville didn’t even flinch at the burn, but Harry pulled a face, earning him a clap on the back from Ernie Macmillan, and a round of howling laughter from Dean and Seamus. Harry shook his head with a grin and continued on to the bar to collect the next round of drinks. 

It took him three times as long as it should have to make it back to their table, but he finally made it, and it looked like the conversation had moved past Draco’s whereabouts. He passed the drinks around the table, but when he leaned over to hand Hermione’s hers, his shirt rode up, and Theo immediately flicked at the hem of his shirt. 

“Hey, lets see it!” 

Harry grabbed at his shirt, nearly knocking his drink over as he did so, glaring at Theo. 

“See what?” Ron moved Harry’s drink out of the way for him, tugging at his elbow to make him sit again. 

“Your soulmate tattoo. Lets see it!” Theo smirked at Harry, who clenched his jaw. 

“Oh yeah! Come on!” Hermione was getting tipsy, and she was bouncing in her seat like Christmas had come in July. Ron grinned at him, urging him to go on. With a grumbling sigh, Harry undid the top few buttons of his shirt, tugging it open so Ron’s name was framed by the blue material. Hermione squealed in delight, and Ron looked rather smug. Theo, however, furrowed his brow in confusion. 

“What was the other one, then?” 

“What other one?” Ron laughed. “Harry doesn’t have any other tattoos, unless you got one last night when I was working.” 

“I swear to Merlin it was right there.” Theo pointed at Harry’s hip, and Harry shook his head, rebuttoning his shirt. 

“Show him so he shuts up,” Ron grumbled, and Harry glared at his boyfriend. 

“No. I don’t have to prove anything that I do or don’t have.” Hermione’s eyes grew wide, and Harry immediately knew that tipsy or not, she’d seen straight through him. Ron apparently saw it too, because he cocked his head, his blue eyes boring into Harry. 

“What are you hiding?” 

“Why can’t you just back me up and let it go,” Harry shot back, and stood abruptly from the table. Ron gaped at him, and Harry turned away, angry at himself for letting Theo see it, and for not telling Ron before. 

He stormed out of the Leaky Cauldron, into Diagon Alley. He thought he heard someone calling after him, but before they could catch him or he could change his mind, he apparated away. 


	3. Half a Decade Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets some perspective

The small, cozy house he landed in front of was as familiar as the back of his hand, and he was grateful to see warm light spilling from the windows into the front garden. It was still early, not even seven, so he might be there in time for bath and bedtime. 

The door was swinging open before he could even knock, and he smiled widely as the light of his life hurdled towards him. Catching the small boy mid- leap, he swung Teddy around, hugging him tightly. 

“Uncle Harry!” 

“Hi Teddy. Where’s Grandma?” 

“In here,” Andromeda called, and Harry followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen, where she was making a pot of tea. “Hi Harry. Is Ron with you?” 

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head. 

“I thought you’d be out with your friends tonight. Happy birthday,” she added, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing. 

“I was,” Harry admitted, setting a squirming Teddy back on his own feet. He raced off, probably in search of something to show Harry. “And thanks. But I did something dumb, and I don‘t know what to do now." His shoulders sagged, and Andromeda clicked her tongue, pouring two cups of tea. 

"What did you do?" 

Harry took the cup she passed him, and followed her into the comfortable sitting room, where Teddy was busy rummaging through a toybox in the corner. 

"My tattoos showed up this morning," he admitted, bitterness lacing his tone.

"Okay, and? I didn't think you'd be surprised after Ron's." Andromeda sat in one armchair, her leg folded beneath her. Harry took one end of the sofa, hands cradling the warm cup despite the summer heat. 

"Tattoos, Andi." He stared miserably at the carpet, and heard her sharp intake of breath. 

"Ah. That complicates things, doesn't it?" He nodded, a lump swelling in his throat again. 

"I take it Ron didn't take it well?" 

"I didn't even get a chance to tell him. And then Theo saw it, and I panicked..." Harry raked a hand through his already messy hair. "I left. Ron's going to be so angry. I just-- I don't know what to do. And the other name.... " Harry clenched his jaw. Complicated didn't even begin to cover it. 

"It wouldn't happen to be a blond dragon with daddy issues, would it?" 

Harry nearly dropped his cup, head snapping up to meet Andi's dark eyes, which were dancing with amusement. 

"I knew it. Cissy owes me ten galleons." 

Harry let out an indigent squeak. "How did you-- I didn't-- He didn't-- Did he?" 

"I doubt he told a soul. But when his birthday rolled around, Cissy said he got moody-- well, moodier than normal-- and he suddenly stopped talking about anything work related. Cissy thought it was that blonde-- What's-her-face Abbott. But that didn't account for his sudden, subtle interest in Teddy's wellbeing." 

Harry sat back, stunned. He hadn't noticed any change in Draco, nor had he known that he'd even acknowledged Teddy's existence.

“I hadn’t quite worked out how, with Ron’s, and I’ll admit I was a little worried that he’d be left pining after you until the day he died. Unless something happened to Ron… But a vee makes sense, really.” She took a sip of her tea, while Harry continued to gape at her. 

"Wait, you're saying that this happens?" Harry felt a glimmer of hope deep in his chest. He’d thought this made him odd once again. He didn’t know anyone that had more than one. Andromeda looked surprised.

"People can have more than one soulmate,” Harry clarified, swallowing hard, pushing the spark of hope down. 

"Of course they can. It's not one and done, life isn't that cut and dry. You of all people should know that. I mean Remus--" 

"Remus?" Harry glanced at Teddy, who had begun tossing stuffed animals over his shoulder and into the center of the floor at a dizzying rate. "Remus had more than one?" 

Her shock softened to pity, and she sighed. "I thought he would have said something, but Nymphadora said he didn't talk about him. That it was too painful. But he and Sirius were soulmates too." 

Harry felt as if he'd had the air knocked out of him. How had he not known about his godfather and Remus? Why had they never said anything? Looking back, it made complete sense, but... 

"But he and Tonks-- Wouldn't Sirius have recognized her name?" 

Andi shook her head. "He didn't get her name til after Sirius died. She had his... It's how she got mixed up into the Order to begin with. But when he didn't recognize her name, she thought that it was going to be one sided, or that his condition somehow negated it... So she was content to be near him until half a decade later and someone said something after Siruis' death." 

Harry's head was swimming, and his heart ached at the mere thought of thinking that Ron wouldn't ever love him back. He hadn’t even entertained the though of truly loving Draco but Andi had said she’d worried about him. Did Draco think Harry wouldn’t love him back either? 

"But that was them. Some people get two, and they form a vee-- That is one person loves two equally at the same time." 

"What if they're not ok with each other? I doubt Ron and Draco will be fine..." he scrunched his nose in distaste at the thought. "...Sharing me." 

Andi snorted. "There's a reason dark magic rips your soul and why things as dark as dementors feed on it. It's painful, to have your soul left incomplete. I can almost guarantee Ron and Draco would do anything to keep you-- including working out their differences with each other." 

"Draco wasn't at work today," He said suddenly, and he suddenly realized that Andi was right. His chest hurt. 

"Uncle Harry look!" Teddy drew his attention to a large stuffed dragon nearly as long as he was tall. 

"Cousin Draco brought me a dragon because dragons are COOL!" 

Harry's mouth went dry. There was no way the bright gold color was a coincidence. Not with the way Draco's lips would turn up in a smirk every time Hestia hollered his nickname across the bullpen, or Bernie listed "Goldie" on the roster instead of "Potter."

“I need to go.” 

Andi was already taking his teacup, and shooing him towards the door. 

“Bye Ted, love you!” He stopped long enough to swing him around in a hug. “I’ll see you this weekend! Thanks Andi!” 


	4. I’m Sure You’re Busy Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to talk to his soulmate.

Andi says you owe her ten galleons,” Harry said in way of explanation when the diminutive house elf delivered him to the sitting room occupied by an irritated-looking Narcissa Malfoy. She lay across a sofa, a book propped open before her. 

She arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him, but as his words sunk in, understanding dawned in her eyes. She nodded sharply once. “It is a price I will gladly pay if you get him to stop  _ moping.”  _ In her posh accent it sounded damn near comical, and Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He sobered though, when he thought of Draco alone somewhere in the manor, unaware that Harry knew of their bond. 

“I—er— Do you think—“ Harry honestly wasn’t sure how his appearance would be received by Draco. He’d taken off work to avoid him, hadn’t he? He’d thought that Harry would be bonded to Ron, and that he’d be left alone. 

“Spit it out,” Narcissa ordered brusquely, snapping closed the book she held on her lap. 

“Will he even want to talk to me?” Harry’s heart sunk as he voiced his worries, and Narcissa’s icy blue eyes softened. It was a look he’d only ever seen on the woman when Draco was involved, and he was beginning to wonder if coming here before speaking to Ron had been a mistake. 

_ But Ron knows I love him, _ Harry thought.  _ Draco doesn’t. But he needs to.  _

“Up the stairs, to the left, fifth door on your right. I suppose we’ll soon find the answer, won’t we?” Narcissa waved a hand, and the door behind Harry opened again. He looked toward the door, uncertainty cementing him in place on the Persian rug. 

His heart raced, and his palms felt sweaty. It was like all the times before he stepped out onto the quidditch pitch to face off against the boy. The boy that was now the man whose name was forever inked across his skin; whose soul was meant to meld with his own. Harry took a shaky breath, and Narcissa tutted impatiently. 

“Do get a move on, or I’ll have to start planning my decor around you and I just finished redecorating this room.” Harry glanced back, and though Narcissa hadn’t moved from her position reclined across the sofa, he thought she looked more tense than she had when he’d first entered. 

Gritting his teeth, he lifted his chin, and stepped resolutely toward the door. 

“If you’re here for breakfast, I suggest avoiding any displays near Abraxas’ portrait outside of the library,” she called, and Harry’s cheeks flamed red. He hadn’t been planning on staying the night. Soulmate or not, he didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize his future with Ron or Draco, and Ron was a jealous bastard. Sleeping with Draco wasn’t an option…  _ Yet, _ whispered a quiet, hopeful voice in the back of his mind. 

Up the stairs, to the left, and one… two... three… four… He stood outside the fifth door, blood rushing in his ears. Before he could lose his nerve, he knocked on the door, the sound reverberating around the hallway, ricocheting off the hardwood floors and vaulted ceilings. 

The door swung open on silent hinges a moment later, and Harry clenched his hands into fists, internally begging his heart to slow and his stomach to peel itself from the floor somewhere between his feet. 

Harry hadn’t really been sure what to expect from Draco’s bedroom, but at first glance he supposed it fit him. The furnishings were dark wood, upholstered in shades of white, navy, and grey. The four-poster bed was neatly made, a fluffy white duvet making it appear dreamily cloud-like, with silvery hangings tied in the corners with navy cords. Draco was seated with his back to the door on a settee facing a large window that looked out over a large decorative garden. 

He had one arm thrown over the back, one leg crossed over the other with his ankle resting on his knee. Harry had seen him sitting like that countless times, but he still stopped to marvel at how graceful he could appear even in stillness. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if he’d been running his hands through it, and an empty, longing ache filled Harry at the thought of touching the silky locks. 

“I said I’m not hungry,” Draco snapped, without looking up from whatever it was he held in his hand. The sun was setting, the sky darkening, and Harry could see Draco’s reflection with increasing clarity with every second that passed. 

“I’m not either,” Harry tried to joke lightly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets to keep from fiddling with his clothes or wand. 

Draco’s head snapped up, and grey eyes met green in the reflection on the window’s glass. Harry wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, or projecting his own desires onto Draco, or if he actually saw it, but for a moment Draco’s eyes shone with relief touched with longing. 

“Potter?” Draco held his gaze, and Harry found it was hard to take a breath. He was impeccably dressed, but he always was. A dark shirt and slacks cut a sharp contrast against his pale skin, and Harry briefly wondered if he’d see the tattoo that he’d obviously been so careful to keep hidden. 

“Hi.” Harry couldn’t think of anything more loquacious, and it was taking most of his self control not to blurt it all out, like Draco’s quicksilver gaze held his own personal form of veratiserum. 

“What are you doing here?” Draco twisted in his seat to look at Harry dead on, and Harry swallowed hard. 

“If you’re busy I can come back, but we need to talk.” 

Draco’s pale face went even more pale, and his eyes grew hard. “I’m on leave. My notes on the Melson case are complete, anything you need you can get from Pence. Like she told you.” He turned back around, leaving Harry in the doorway. 

“I’m not here about work.” Harry hadn’t thought this would be easy, but Draco certainly wasn’t going to make it any easier. He strode forward, placing himself between Draco and the window. Draco sneered up at him, and for some reason, it made Harry less nervous. Draco hasn’t changed. He was still the same stubborn man he’d always been, and Harry just had to match wills, like they’d been doing for the last ten years. 

“Then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your soulmate?” There was no way Harry could deny the bitterness that laced Draco’s tone. 

So standing in front of him, he yanked his shirt up, baring his stomach and the tattoo that spelled out  _ Draco  _ in elegant script across his pelvis. 

“A bit hard to do if he’s here, and not out with me.” 

Draco’s sneer faltered and melted away, leaving him with an awestruck expression that was oddly endearing. His grey eyes were wide, his perfect pink lips parted in shock. His eyes traced over the letters of his own name, and Harry watched his face carefully, waiting. 

After several long seconds, Draco’s mouth snapped shut, and his eyes hardened again. “That’s not funny. Get out.” 

“It’s not a joke, Draco.” Harry took a tentative step forward, and Draco stood abruptly so they stood chest to chest. They were close enough to the same height that they stared levelly into each other’s eyes, and Harry could feel the other man’s breaths ghosting across his lips. 

“I said  _ get. Out.”  _ Draco’s voice was low, dangerous, and Harry habitually reached for his hand as he would have with Ron. His fingers grazed the smooth skin of Draco’s wrist just below his sleeve, and Draco jerked his hand away, simultaneously shoving Harry with his other hand. Caught off guard, Harry stumbled back, and Draco skirted around the settee, storming from the room. 

The lump in Harry’s throat returned with a vengeance, and the burn of rejection settling heavily in his chest. He’d known there was a possibility that Draco wouldn’t take it well, but he’d expected yelling, maybe some hexes, but not… this. 

“And there’s your answer.” Narcissa Malfoy leaned against the door frame, her slender arms crossed. She wore a blank, detached expression, and Harry’s shoulders drooped. “I suppose this means you shan’t be here for breakfast, then. It’s a shame, I was hoping you’d disregard my advice and give Abraxas an eyeful.” Her lips quirked up in a small smile. “Perhaps next time.” 

“Next time?” The irritating spark of hope was back, and she rolled her eyes. 

“If you give up that quickly you’re much less persistent and much more stupid than I gave you credit for, and perhaps you don’t deserve him after all.” 

Harry opened his mouth to object, but he couldn’t exactly argue, so he changed tactics. “How do I prove to him that I’m serious?” 

Narcissa smiled; a cold, calculating smile that had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. “Much better.” 


	5. Hey You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes home to Ron

It was dark when Harry returned home. He stood outside of the house he and Ron had made their own, wondering if Andromeda was right, and Ron would understand. 

The door opened on squeaky hinges that neither of them had bothered to fix, and a pile of shoes that Hermione bitched about every time she came over greeted him. It was comfortingly familiar, as was the sound of the wireless coming from the living room. He followed the sound, and found Ron sprawled across the couch, a copy of  _ Quidditch Quarterly  _ open on his bare chest, his mouth hanging slightly open as he slept. 

Harry knelt beside him, moving the magazine to the coffee table. Ron rarely wore a shirt around the house, and Harry had never minded; since March he’d been even more glad for it. It was addicting to see his name displayed proudly. Now though, it felt as if it was taunting him, and he reached up to trace his name with a finger like he had a million times in the last four months. 

Ron’s eyes fluttered open at Harry’s light touch, and Harry tried to smile. “Hey, you.” 

“What time is it?” Ron yawned, scrubbing his face with one hand. 

“About ten. When did you come home?” Harry kept tracing his name, knowing that it was very likely that he wouldn’t get the chance again anytime soon once they talked. 

“Six thirty? Seven? Right after you left.” Ron tucked his arm behind his head, his blue eyes clearer now. “What the hell happened? Where did you go?” 

Harry sighed, smoothing his hand over the black ink that stood out so clearly against Ron’s freckled skin. 

“Andi’s. She told me I was an idiot and I needed to talk to you. But I had to go talk to someone else first.” 

Ron snorted. “Okay… What the fuck is going on?” 

Harry met his eyes, and reached up to unbutton his shirt. Ron watched, relief washing over his features as his name appeared. 

“You’re my soulmate, Ron. But we’ve known that. Hell I think some part of us knew from the time we were kids…” Harry smiled at the memories of their first year at Hogwarts together. “You were a right arse sometimes and I was a stubborn dick, but that’s part of what makes us work, right?” 

Ron nodded, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. They’d talked about it before, but that was…  _ before.  _

“But there was someone else… And I guess I should have seen it but I didn’t until this morning and now…” 

A hand closed around Harry’s wrist where he was playing with the last button on his shirt. “What do you mean someone else? Where did you go?” His voice had taken on a new edge, and Harry opened his eyes to meet Ron’s again. He’d sat up, and his ears were turning red. 

“Did you know you can have more than one soul mate?” Of all the things Harry had faced, it felt like this conversation was one of the hardest. He didn’t want to lose Ron. He  _ couldn’t  _ lose Ron. 

“Of course I did but it’s really bloody rare.” 

Harry nearly snorted. “Well of fucking course it would be me, then, wouldn’t it?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his tone again, and Ron’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. 

“What are you—“

“You knew. That I was your soulmate and that I love you. But… he didn’t. He thought I was yours and his was one sided and I couldn’t let him think that.” 

Ron blinked, and then his eyes narrowed on where Harry had stopped unbuttoning his shirt. “Nott saw it. He said— and I didn’t— who the fuck is it?” His grip was painfully tight on Harry’s wrist, and he struggled to undo the last button, letting his shirt fall open. Ron let go of his wrist, and pulled his shirt roughly aside. 

Harry watched his eyes flick over the script, again and again. And then against all odds he grinned. Then  _ laughed.  _ Threw his head back, and laughed like he’d gotten bested by Fred and George again. 

“Merlin’s saggy ballsack you really had me going, mate!” He ran a hand through his hair and his shoulders sagged in relief. “To think… Malfoy! It’s just ink, right? So do you really have another or was that a joke too?” 

Harry ought to have been relieved, really, but for the second time that night his soulmate was treating it like a joke. Like he couldn’t be capable of loving Draco. Or that Draco was worth less than Ron. The day before maybe he would have been one to laugh, but after spending the day coming to terms with it and the last two hours talking at length with Narcissa, he was just angry. 

“It’s not a joke, Ron. It’s Draco.” 

The warmth faded from Ron’s eyes, and he was left looking dumbstruck. “You’re not serious. You can’t—“ He reached out, rubbing a thumb across Draco’s name as if testing to see if it would smear and disappear. Predictably, it didn’t, and he rubbed again, this time harder. Harry’s skin turned pink, but the black script just stayed firmly in place. 

“I went to talk to Draco. I showed him, but he wouldn’t talk to me. I ended up talking to Narcissa for a couple hours…” Harry trailed off as Ron snatched his hand back like he’d been burned. 

“So you told  _ Malfoy  _ you had two soulmates before you told  _ me.”  _ The venom in his voice was unmistakable, and Harry shook his head vehemently. 

“No. I showed him  _ his  _ name. That’s it. I wanted him to know, but I was going to wait to talk to him about the vee until after I talked to you.” Harry wanted to explain that he was trying to them on an even playing field, that as Ron had already seen his name he thought Draco deserved the same courtesy. But Ron’s jealous nature was rearing its head, and Harry knew it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ron exploded off the couch and onto his feet, throwing Harry off balance so he landed on his arse.  _ Hard.  _ “Why didn’t you tell me first thing this morning so we could figure this out? So we could get rid of it?” 

“I don’t want to get rid of it!” Harry climbed to his feet, hands fisted at his sides. How could Ron just automatically assume he didn’t want it? “How would you feel if you found out I tried to get rid of your name?” 

“But it’s Malfoy! The ferret! You don’t love him,” Ron roared, and Harry saw red. He didn’t get to talk about his soulmate like that, even if he was one of them. Harry wouldn’t stand for it. 

“Hermione didn’t love Theo at first! Percy hated Severus! Pansy used to fucking terrify Neville! It doesn’t matter!” Harry knew he was right. He  _ could  _ and  _ would  _ love him. That’s what a fucking soulmate meant! 

“Everything used to terrify Neville!”

“This isn’t about Neville! This is about me and Draco!” Harry saw something break in Ron’s face, and then Ron grabbed a book laying on the mantle, and threw it. Not at Harry, but Harry stepped aside anyway, letting it hit the wall without stopping it, watching Ron still for a moment, breathing hard. Then he grabbed the ornamental vase that held their floo powder, and threw it against the wall too. It exploded in a shower of white porcelain and glittering green powder, covering most of the room in sparkling dust. The next item on the mantle was a framed picture of the two of them, taken just after they’d graduated from the Auror Academy. 

“What about us?” He screamed, shaking the picture at Harry. “What about  _ me?”  _ He lobbed the photo at the wall, and the glass shattered. Harry rushed at Ron even as he reached for the bowl that held the owl treats, and grabbed his face. 

“I love you, you bastard! This doesn’t change me and you! Don’t you get that?” Harry resisted the urge to shake him, searching his face. Ron was  _ everything. _ “I’m not the one that left, remember? I can’t let you leave me again!” 

Pain flashed through Ron’s eyes, and Harry felt guilt twist his stomach. He’d never brought that up in an argument on purpose, but he felt as if he’d been ripped apart over and over and his fear over watching him leave was so raw and visceral that he couldn’t keep it in any longer. He couldn’t bear to have Ron leave him. Not over something he couldn’t control and didn’t ask for. 

Ron grabbed his wrists and pried his hands from his face without a word, stalking from the room. Harry heard his footsteps on the stairs, and a door slam shut. Shaking, he sank down into a chair, cradling his face in his hands. He wanted to yell and scream and throw things like Ron had, but what good would it do now? 

_ How was it that he had two soulmates, and neither one of them wanted anything to do with him? _ Harry hung his head, heart and soul aching. He had been terrified that he would wake up on the morning of his 21st birthday and not have a tattoo… Now he was wondering if that wouldn’t have been so bad. Certainly it couldn’t have been worse than  _ this.  _


	6. Can’t Help It

He was still sitting there when the fireplace roared to life, and Hermione stepped through. She looked around the room, and sighed. 

“Why can’t anything ever be simple with you?” The words could have been harsh, but Harry knew she wasn’t trying to be. She sat beside him, and lay her head against his shoulder. 

“Do you want me to talk to him?” 

“Which one,” Harry asked dryly, and Hermione snorted.

“Well certainly not the one that practically kicked me out of bed. I’m pretty sure one of us would end up in St Mungo’s if I tried that.”

“I don’t know that Ron will be any more open to talking than Draco,” Harry warned, and Hermione stayed quiet for a moment. 

“He loves you. I’m sure he’s just confused right now.”

“And I’m not?” Bitterness seeped through his words, and Hermione sighed. 

“He’s afraid he’s going to lose you, Harry. He thought you were all his and now he finds out that he’s going to have to compete for your attention. It’s like—“

“It’s not a competition,” Harry insisted, and Hermione shook her head. 

“I know. But to him it will feel that way. He always felt that he had to compete with his brothers, with you, until he  _ had  _ you. Don’t you get it, Harry? He can’t help it.”

“I love him,” he whispered, and Hermione squeezed his arm, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head, her curls tickling his neck. 

“I know.”

“He told me I should try to get rid of Draco’s name. I don’t want to get rid of it, though.” 

“You can’t get rid of a soulmate tattoo, you know that. But Ron will come around. He always does for you.”

“And Draco?” 

“He might have a few boils if he doesn’t get out of my bed when I go home, but he’ll come around too.” She tilted her head back to look at him, and smiled. “Theo might end up with a few boils for  _ allowing  _ him to kick me out of bed. Promise not to arrest me?” 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of anyone trying to arrest Hermione. “I didn’t hear that.” She stretched up and kissed his cheek. 

“Good. Now clean up while I go beat some sense into your boyfriend. I mean…. Use airtight logic and reasoning to convince him he’s reacting poorly to a situation that neither of you have any control of but are attempting to make the best of.” 

Harry shook his head, and waved her off. He could hear her steps on the stairs, and he flicked his wand, setting the room to rights once more. Switching off the wireless, he listened hard for any sounds from the direction of their bedroom. Hearing nothing, he retook his seat, and waited. 

He tried leafing through  _ Quidditch Quarterly _ , but found himself unable to concentrate. His eyes kept wandering back to the photo on the mantle, the glass now repaired and the pair of them waving happily in their scarlet robes that denoted their full Auror status as constables, happy to be rid of the grey trainees uniform. 

He’d thought things would get easier. He really had been so hopeful, and now… Now he had two soulmates but was sitting alone while they both confided in other people. He couldn’t even resent Hermione and Theo, because they were giving Ron and Draco what they needed, and Harry couldn’t. 

Burying his face in his hands, he wished for the millionth time that he had his parents or Sirius or Remus to give him some kind of guidance. Andi and Narcissa had tried, but ultimately, their alliances lay with Draco. Molly and Arthur would likewise side with Ron, which left Harry with… what? 

Hagrid had left for France and settled down with Olympe Maxime, and though Harry still received cards for his birthday and Christmas, they weren’t as close as they once were. Harry was happy for him, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the comfort of knowing he could pop by his cottage at Hogwarts for a cuppa and a rock cake that he was still relatively certain had actual rocks in them. 

He’d always had Ron and Hermione. And now Hermione had her own life and Ron… 

His eyes strayed again to the photo, and he watched Ron wind his arm around his waist, laughing at something someone had said off camera. Harry’s chest ached, and his fingers traced absentmindedly over Ron’s name. He loved him so much it hurt, and all he wanted was to storm up the stairs and tell him as much. 

“For Circe’s sake Harry, are you listening to me?” 

Harry looked around, surprised to find Hermione sitting in a chair across from him. 

“I— What?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I  _ said _ ,” she said with a touch of impatience, “that Ronald fell asleep. You should go to bed. Talk about it tomorrow when you’re not exhausted and you’ve both had a bit more time to process. And tomorrow’s Wednesday, which means I’ll be expecting you both for lunch. Don’t be late.” 

She kissed his cheek and stepped back through the floo in typical Hermione fashion. Harry allowed himself a moment to wonder if Draco was still at her flat, if he’d listen if Harry followed her through. 

Ultimately though, Harry’s heavy eyes won out, and he slowly crept up the stairs, hesitating in the doorway of their bedroom. In the dim light of his wand, Ron was sprawled out on his side of the bed, and Harry could see the imprint of where Hermione had been sitting, probably cross-legged with her back against the headboard in Harry’s place, his pillow shoved aside. It was, like the pile of shoes by the door, normal and comfortable. 

So Harry allowed it to remain. He undressed and slid into bed as if nothing was wrong, arranging himself around Ron’s long limbs like he did every night. 

“I love you, you stubborn git,” he whispered, and Ron grunted in his sleep. Harry was just relieved though, when Ron rolled over and threw an arm over Harry’s stomach. He sighed, and fell asleep, reaching out for the missing piece of his soul. 

  
  
  



	7. That's Fine

The next several days dragged slowly by. Harry tried to carry on as if nothing had changed in an attempt to reassure Ron, but Draco was constantly on his mind. Draco still hadn’t returned to work, and Harry tried to give him the privacy he obviously wanted. Ron walked on eggshells, as if he thought Harry would cast him off in favor of Draco if he made a single wrong move. 

It was over a week after his birthday when Ron sat heavily across from Harry at the kitchen table, staring at his hands. Harry didn’t look up, just continued with the report he’d brought home to finish rather than staying late at the office. The scratching of his quill seemed loud in the silence, but Harry was exhausted from numerous attempts of talking to Ron and continuously being shut down. 

“Pence told me Malfoy’s due back Monday.” Ron fidgeted with his watch, but Harry just grunted noncommittally and continued writing. He’d heard the same thing from Hermione at lunch, and had already spent several hours stewing over what it meant to be working with Draco again. 

“I thought you’d be excited to see him again,” Ron tried again, and Harry sighed. He set his quill aside, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Ron. He’s made that much painfully clear. You don’t want me to get involved with him, and I’m not going to throw away what we have--” 

“You keep saying that.” Ron leaned back and pushed his hand through his hair. “I don’t--”

“I know. It’s fine.” Harry tried to push down the hollow ache that had sat in his chest for the last week by swallowing hard. 

“No it’s not.” Ron sounded sad, and fear gripped Harry so hard he couldn’t breathe. He snapped his eyes up to Ron’s face, and Ron met his gaze for what felt like the first time in ages. “You’re not throwing us away. I just...” He trailed off, looked away from Harry again, and sat forward, crossing his arms. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” 

Harry dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, the tell-tale prickling already beginning. There was a scraping of the chair’s legs against tile, and then Ron’s arms came around Harry’s shoulders. 

“The thought of losing you makes me want to scream and throw things because it feels like my body’s being ripped in half. If you feel even half that at the thought of losing Draco…” Ron’s voice grew muffled as Harry pressed his cheek into the hard planes of his abdomen. “I don’t want to hurt you by keeping you from him.” Tears fell free, wetting Ron’s shirt where Harry’s cheek rested against him. 

It was a ratty old t-shirt Hermione hated and Harry thought was hilarious, a gift from Luna who had been traveling around the US looking for some creature or another, and brought him back a shirt that proudly proclaimed “I HEART BEAVER.” She’d been confused when they all laughed hysterically, and only later that night found out that Hermione’s patronus was an otter, not a beaver, that Hermione was still a tad touchy about beavers given the hex she’d been hit with in fourth year, that Ron and Harry were now in a relationship, and that beaver was a rather crude term for a woman’s nether regions. All in all, it had been an informative night for Luna, and the source of endless jokes between Harry and Ron since. Now the shirt was soft and worn, well on its way to becoming threadbare, but Harry had sworn he’d travel to Utah himself to find another if he had to. 

The familiarity of Ron’s steady heartbeat, the memories of the t-shirt, and the weight of his words overwhelmed Harry. He felt as if he were locked in place, unable to breathe or cry or voice his relief or pain. 

Harry didn’t know how long Ron stood there beside him, the uncharacteristic gentleness with which he cradled him not unnoticed but greatly appreciated. When Harry finally spoke, his voice was rough, and he had to clear his throat several times before anything resembling a word would come out. 

“It hurts like that when I think about you leaving, too.” 

At the answer to the question that he hadn’t asked, Ron’s relief was palpable and he sagged against Harry. Wrapping his arms around Ron’s middle, he held him tightly. The relief they both shared felt like it’s own form of magic, coursing between them like electricity in a closed circuit. 

“Do you want to order in? I’m starving.” The question could have ruined the moment, but for Harry, it just perfected it. It settled him as their relationship went back to normal. There would be discussions and questions and hard moments to come, but that was fine. Because Ron was here, and supportive, and…

And now Harry had to figure out how to win Draco over. 

But it could come later. After they ate, and after Harry dragged Ron to bed and they spent several hours wrapped up in each other, making up for the lost time of the last week and a half. 

He had Ron, and the rest… He could worry about it later. 


End file.
